Bare Feet and Microwaves
by SingingMisery
Summary: Eames smirked. "That's what microwaves are for."


Title: Bare Feet and Microwaves  
Pairing: Arthur/Eames  
Warnings: Nothing much. Kissing, fluff  
Notes: My first Inception fan fic. Eeeee.

* * *

Habit forced him out of bed at six o'clock in the morning. He was used to rising early in the morning. But it took a second for Arthur to realize there was a arm wrapped around his waist.

He turned and looked at Eames. That's right. The other man had some over last night. Arthur lay still for a few moments, studying Eames. It was rare that he could just look at Eames and take in everything about him. The forger was naked, his warm skin rubbing over Arthur's bare arms and chest. Little snores emitted from his mouth, making Arthur smile. His eyes followed the line art of several tattoos. He didn't know the stories behind them, not yet anyways. It was one of several things they did not trust each other with. But, maybe, with time...

Arthur stealthily twisted out of Eames grasp, not wanting to wake the other man up. He enjoyed the quiet that mornings brought. It gave him time to think and organize himself for the day ahead. Not that there was anything going on. The Fischer job had been successful and Cobb was back with his kids.

There was a delicious soreness between his legs that made him pause for second. But he ignored it and stood up, stretching his limbs out. He felt calm, sinewy. Something he didn't usually feel. Pondering that, he grasped a pair of pyjama pants and slid them over his legs, thighs and hips. With one backwards glance at Eames, he quickly walked down the hall.

Eames woke up slowly; the warm blackness of sleep gradually falling off of him. He stretched out his arm, frowning when he grasped empty air. He swivelled his head around, casually scanning the room. There. Arthur's suit was still neatly hanging on the chair by the desk. Arthur would not have left without his suit.

Not that Eames was relieved or anything. Arthur was free to leave whenever he wanted.

A noise from the kitchen got his attention. He rolled out of the bed, not bothering to get dressed. He noiselessly walked to the kitchen in the hotel suite they were staying in. He paused in the entrance, leaning against the doorframe. The sight made his mouth go dry.

Arthur was in the process of making some sort of food. Pancakes, by the smell of them. He moved gracefully, his muscles bunching and relaxing with each reach of his arms. Eames let his eyes drift over Arthur's bare shoulders and back. He paused on the elastic waistband of the cotton pants.

When Arthur turned around, he raised an eyebrow. If he noticed Eames's nudity, he didn't say anything. But the tips of his ears turned a faint pink "Good morning, Mr. Eames."

The forger smiled, not answering. Once again, his eyes drifted down, making Arthur roll his eyes with a huff. He turned back to the stove.

"You have no idea just how lovely you are, do you?"

Arthur stiffened, but Eames didn't apologize. It was true. Especially right now. There was something absolutely sexy seeing him half-naked and barefoot. His skin was glowing in the sun shining through the window, making him look almost ethereal. His smooth skin was marred by battle scars, but that just made Arthur even more perfect. The long pants brushed over the tops of his feet, with small, perfect toes peeking out. He almost looked vulnerable without his suit and shoes. His hair was still mussed from their activities the night before. He barely saw Arthur in anything but those damned suits. They were nice, but this was better.

"I think you are still half-asleep. Now, do you like—" Arthur was cut off, making a surprised noise when he was yanked back against a hard chest.

"Now, I know you're not doubting me. Right, darling?" When Arthur didn't answer, Eames slid his hand over Arthur's stomach. "You are lovely." He pressed a kiss to the junction of shoulder and neck. "Sexy." He moved his lips up and brushed them over Arthur's jaw line. "And utterly tempting." He used his free hand to tip the brunet's face towards him. "Come back to bed. We don't have to go anywhere."

"What about breakfast?" Arthur's voice was barely above a murmur. His eyes were lidded and lips flushed.

Eames smirked. "That's what microwaves are for." The kiss that followed was soft, but Eames was feeling anything but. Yes, they had today. But who would know what tomorrow would bring? He wanted to get lost in the skin, the scars, and the lips of Arthur. "Come back to bed." He lowered his voice, afraid of shattering the quiet that had settled over them. He kissed the other man again. Arthur sighed into it, became part of it, and Eames knew he had won. He tugged on Arthur's arm, leading him back to the bedroom. But not before flipping over a pancake and turning off the oven. No need for any interruptions. 


End file.
